


RTX Australia 2019

by darkdesiderata



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF, The Weekly Planet Podcast
Genre: First ever fic, Introducing the Weekly Planet Podcast, M/M, They're Aussies, You all should jump on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 04:05:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18380609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkdesiderata/pseuds/darkdesiderata
Summary: Prompt:  "Easter porn crossover Achievement Hunter x the Weekly Planet"





	RTX Australia 2019

**Author's Note:**

> Haha may not have achieved any of the three elements successfully.
> 
> This is very inside baseball with Weekly Planet references. Honestly though the Weekly Planet podcast is the best part of my week. Check it out.

“So are you excited for RTX Australia next week, Ryan?” Michael asked as he sat down at his desk with a fresh stein of beer. Despite Sarah’s vow to never let them record Minecraft following Off Topic again, Michael and Jeremy had insisted they film after a Fireball shot competition on that day’s podcast had gotten out of hand. This week’s Minecraft featured the team exploring a new underwater mod and crafting a submarine they could use to travel unhindered by angry Drowned and Guardians. It involved a lot of specialized materials and complex crafting, so Michael found his skills of hunting and basic resource collection to be utterly useless. He had decided to pick up the slack by providing color commentary to the Let’s Play.

“Not as excited as I know you are,” Ryan responded and looked at Michael over his monitor, raising his eyebrows suggestively. His gaze quickly returned to his monitor, but not before noticing and admiring the rosy hue of inebriated Michael’s cheeks. His eyes narrowed. “God DAMN IT Trevor! I’m trying to craft the engine in the computer and you keep replacing the crafting matrix with KELP SANDWICHES every time I try to make it.”

“Well come now, I’m just trying to keep our handsome, strong, working men well fed,” Trever replied. “Look at Alfredo, toiling away in the mine. Doesn’t he deserve a home-crafted sandwich with a good dose of TLC? This is the problem with our country nowadays, no one appreciates the working folk.”

“I don’t need a sandwich,” said Alfredo weakly, “I’ve been lost in this hole for 20 minutes now and no one has come to save me. There are skeletons. I’m scared.” 

“Well, he has to learn to survive on his own at some point,” muttered Trevor. “Alfredo, baby girl, just die and respawn back up here. I’ve got kelp sandwiches to revive your spirit.”

“NO, DEATH! I REJECT THEE! I WILL FIGHT UNTIL THE DYING OF THE LIGHT! UNTIL MY LAST BREA—oh hey Trevor, what was that about sandwiches?”

“A bounty of kelp for our companion Alfredo, newly returned from the dead,” Trevor said, circling around Alfredo’s respawned avatar onscreen and tossing sandwiches at him. Ryan took the chance to quickly craft the submarine engine in the computer before returning his attention to the next step.

“Aaaaanyway, why would I be more excited than you about RTX Aus, Ryan?” asked Michael, returning to the subject at hand. 

“Well, it’s the accents, innit?” supplied Gavin. He had sabotaged the efforts of the entire crew last week by accidentally collapsing a submerged cave they’d been exploring and was therefore committed to Minecraft time-out this week. He was dutifully tending the sheep and breeding the chickens as required, but Ryan was keeping one eye on him, convinced that Gavin’s boredom would soon result in something going up in flame. 

“The accents?” Michael took a hearty swig of his beer before replying. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

“Your schlong done get hard for the Aussie slang.” Gavin said matter-of-factly. 

Michael sputtered and sprayed a mouthful of beer. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he exclaimed.

Ryan raised his gaze over the monitor toward Michael a second time. “It’s just… you always get a little starry-eyed whenever Lannan stops by. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m most fond of the Italian axe-ment FUCK axepent ACCENT, myself.”

The rest of the room repressed sniggers at his flub. “FUCK YOU ALL I LIVE MY OWN LIFE FREE OF YOUR JUDGMENT,” expressed Ryan, focusing back on his crafting. “And I need 12 more titanium if we’re going to get anywhere on this submarine today.”

Jeremy, the loser of the day’s Fireball competition, had lain dormant at his desk until this time. The rest of the team had been perfectly willing to let him sleep off the alcohol coursing through his veins, but at Ryan’s request he shot up straight in his chair. “I AM THE MASTER SMELTER,” he mumbled, his words clumsy and slow, “TITANIUM COMING UP.” He slumped back down on his desk.

“Don’t you worry, Jeremy,” said Trevor, reassuringly “we’ll get Ryan his titanium just fine without you.” Jeremy nodded in acknowledgement from his position resting his cheek on the edge of his keyboard and closed his eyes once again.

Trevor’s avatar moved to utilize the smelter and Michael spoke once again. “I’ve only been starry-eyed once in my life and that was meeting Dana Snyder from Aqua Teen Hunger Force. You guys know this,” he insisted, his brow furrowed in consternation. 

“You were star-struck meeting Dana Snyder,” said Gavin. “I figure you’re star-fucked when you talk to Lannan. You go absolutely weak-kneed for his voice.”

Gavin took one look across Jeremy’s sleeping form at Michael and realized he’d made a mistake. Michael launched out of his chair and tackled Gavin to the ground. “I’LL SHOW YOU FUCKED!” yelled Michael, shoving Gavin’s face into the carpet.

“Well,” said Trevor, “That brings us to the end of another eventful episode of Minecraft. Thank you for tuning in and make sure to tip your servers. Tune in next time when we actually get this useless hunk of metal into the water where Gavin will surely kill us all again.”

Gavin’s squawking noises could be heard in the background as the video sound faded into the end-video music.

...

James was nervous as he stood behind the curtain with Maso, waiting to head on for their segment. He was always nervous before live shows. It always astounded him that people would pay to come out and see them, especially at a video-game-centric event such as this one. The Weekly Planet Podcast’s specialty was comic book movies, god damn it, and there was only so many times they could go through the failures of historical video game movies before the audience tired of the discussion.

“And now,” said the emcee, “On this very special Easter Sunday at RTX Australia, put your hands together for James and Nick Mason of the Weekly Planet Podcast!”

James and Nick exchanged one glance before heading out onto stage. James knew Nick was just as nervous as he was. They’d never signed up for this kind of experience. He’d been a teacher, for god’s sake, and Nick was a tram driver. If someone had told them five years ago that they’d be entertaining a live audience of thousands with tales of superpowered incompetence in just a scant few years, they’d have laughed them out the door and said g’day to them.

Mastering himself, James sat down at the middle of the white fold-out table waiting for him and grabbed the mic. “Hello everyo-“ He winced as feedback rang out across the system and backed up on the mic before speaking again. As he did, he felt his podcast persona fall into place.

“Hello and welcome to the Weekly Planet Podcast. My name is James and this is my co-host Nick Mason. Mason, normally we talk about movies and tv and video games and comic books, but tonight is a rather special show, Mason, as you know.”

“Or do I?” interrupted Nick, “maybe this all a dream and I’m imagining the thousands of people looking at me in the audience right now.”

“Right,” said James, laughing, “maybe we’re both asleep right now and Michael is just a figment of our imaginations.”

Michael chose this moment to enter from stage-right wearing thematic bunny ears as a costume and to thunderous applause from the audience. “Ooooooooh” he intoned, keeping his mouth close to mic so the sound would come out muffled. The rough sound of his voice sent a jolt down James’s spine. “Who is Michael? I’m just your scary ghost bunny from New Jersey.” He sat down on the other side of James from Mason and made himself comfortable with his beer and his mic.

James stared at the newcomer, a little bewildered. When he was told an expert from Achievement Hunter would be joining them onstage to rehash the failures of video game cinema, he’d expected a nerdy 21-year-old with a vape in this breast pocket, not this 30-year-old red-head with a full stein of beer and a sharp gaze.

“Well,” said James to Nick, recovering a little of his composure and tearing his eyes from Michael’s, “we’ve never done this show with a ghost as a guest, but do you reckon it’ll go alright?”

“I will be the first to admit that I know nothing about New Jersey,” responded Maso, “except that it’s close to New York. So I say this ghost can stay as long as he fulfills YOUR lifelong dream.” James sighed and leaned over to Michael’s side, whispering in his ear. He felt the soft curls of Michael’s hair against his lips and fought to keep his face neutral as he stood up.

Michael’s face brightened as he stood from the table, moving out from behind it and in front of the audience and to the opposite side of the stage from where James was now standing. They then walked purposefully towards each other, Michael’s bunny ears bobbing as he went. 

“Here we go, folks,” added Maso, “this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Pretend James is a disguised superhero on his way to complete a super-important task.”

James and Michael’s shoulders collided in the middle of the stage and James fell to the floor, theatrically.  
“Hey, I’m walkin’ ‘ere!” exclaimed Michael in his best Jersey accent.

The audience, finally in on the joke, clapped and whistled enthusiastically as Michael clasped hands with James and helped him to his feet.  
James locked eyes with Michael as his strong grasp helped leverage his weight into an upright position. The grin on his face was electric and his rumpled auburn hair helped seal the deal. James realized abruptly that he was in quite deep with this one.

James and Michael faced the audience and bowed with hands still clasped as Maso narrated. “There it is, everyone. That was as close to a New York movie brush-off as we’re ever likely to see here in ‘Straya!”

They walked together back behind the table. James fought the blush on his cheeks the whole was until he finally felt Michael release his hand. Reclaiming his microphone and his control of the situation, James addressed the audience. “Well, that was a fair bit of nonsense, but we’re here to do more than muck about onstage for an audio medium. What news have we had in comic book movies this week, Maso?”

Nick brought up a piece of news confirming Jared Leto’s casting in an upcoming horror flick and James gratefully tuned in to his story. That is, until he felt the sudden intrusion of a large hand making its way up his thigh. 

James turned suddenly to Michael, who wore an unrepentant smile on his face while downing the last of his stein. FUCK this man could drink like and Aussie and NO that was not what he needed to be admiring in front of 2,000 people at this stage of the live podcast. 

He quickly schooled his expression and spoke relative to Maso’s news. “I personally don’t need to see any more of Jared Leto in any movie, much less some wank-fest where he gets to act deranged and harass his costars all over again in the name of film-making. What’s your opinion on Leto, mate?” The last he addressed to Michael, hoping to momentarily distract him from his hand’s slow and steady path up the inside of his thigh.

James was gratified by not only a temporary cessation of the movement of Michael’s hand, but also the red tint that appeared on Michael’s cheeks when he called him “mate”. Maybe, he realized, he wasn’t the only one affected in this situation. Feeling empowered, he firmly interlaced his fingers with Michael’s own and removed his hand from his thigh. He kept their hands together between them underneath the table, however, for the remainder of the show.

...

The moment they passed through the door, James found himself pressed back against the wall by Michael’s body. They’d both had their fair share of drinks during the podcast, and following Maso’s formal sendoff (“Goo’night everybody, grab dat gem!”) James and Michael had hurried back to Michael’s hotel room with a frenetic sort of glee.

“I still can’t believe you think the PS4 is a better console than the Xbox One,” said Michael, pulling James’s Mack Weldon t-shirt down to mouth at his collarbone.

James fought not to groan under the ministrations of Michael’s tongue. He dipped his knees and gripped at the wall behind him with his palms. “The library of games—*gasp*—speaks for itself. You’re telling me Uncharted 4 itself isn’t worth the price of the console?”

Michael paused for a minute to strip his own shirt and pull James’s up by the hem with both hands. James’s eyes watched his chest as he did, tracing the lines of muscle he saw there. Michael grinned sardonically before pulling James’s shirt fully over his head. “Yeah but Xbox is the console of Halo and Call of Duty. How can you forget the best games series out there?”

“Easily,” James said, pushing forward and moving Michael backwards towards the bed. He dropped onto his ass on the covers and looked up as James replied. “I never was a Mountain Dew guzzling racist twelve-year-old, so those games never held much water with me.”

“Fuck that!” Michael’s eyes went wide as he pulled James down on top of him. He felt the swell of the other man’s arousal through his jeans. He quickly switched their positions and bracketed James’s head with his tattooed forearms. Grinding down purposefully against the hardness between his legs, he saw James’s face spasm and his head drop onto the pillow behind him.

“Still feeling contrary?” Michael teased.

James’s eyes opened once again and he reached behind Michael to slide his hands into the back of his jeans. “Whatever, man. Like what you like. Just get these off before I have to do it for you.”

Michael obediently unzipped his jeans and slid them down his legs and off the bed before resuming his position to palm at James’s dick through his pants.

“Jesus, man,” said James impatiently, “Get a move on. I’m not here to fuck spiders.”

Just to be stubborn, Michael pulled James into a deep kiss, languishing in the feeling of his tongue entwining with James’s and coming away slightly breathless. James tried to speak momentarily before Michael plunged back in again to continue the kiss.

Michael felt the world tilt as James rolled his body underneath and drew back. He looked up into James’s eyes, framed by salt and pepper hair, and said, “If you’re not here to fuck spiders, I have another good alternative.”

...

When all was said and done, they lay beside each other, bathing in afterglow. Michael was the first to move. He grabbed a shirt from the floor and wiped his stomach clean. Realizing he’d nabbed James’s shirt instead of his own, he winced and turned to James. “Sorry dude, I may have ruined your t-shirt.”

“No worries, mate,” said James, yawning and settling into the mattress. “It’s antimicrobial.”

Michael looked on, bewildered, as James dropped promptly off into sleep.


End file.
